Above, unwoo'd of summer wind: A sudden splendour from behind Flush'd all the leaves with rich gold-green, And, flowing rapidly between Their interspaces, counterchanged The level lake with diamond-plots Of dark and bright. A lovely time, Of good Haroun Alraschid. Dark-blue the deep sphere overhead, In cool soft turf upon the bank, Thence thro' the garden I was drawn Thick rosaries of scented thorn, Tall orient shrubs, and obelisks Of good Haroun Alraschid. With dazed vision unawares From the long alley's latticed shade the great Emerged, I came upon Pavilion of the Caliphat. Right to the carven cedarn doors, The fourscore windows all alight In inmost Bagdat, till there seem'd Of night new-risen, that marvellous time, Of good Haroun Alraschid. Then stole I up, and trancedly Six columns, three on either side, Throne of the massive ore, from which With inwrought flowers, a cloth of gold. Sole star of all that place and time, THE GOOD HAROUN ALRASCHID! ODE TO MEMORY. I. HOU who stealest fire, THOU From the fountains of the past, To glorify the present; oh, haste, I faint in this obscurity, Thou dewy dawn of memory. 2. Come not as thou camest of late, Flinging the gloom of yesternight On the white day; but robed in soften❜d light Of orient state. Whilome thou camest with the morning mist, Even as a maid, whose stately brow The dew-impearled winds of dawn have kiss'd, When she, as thou, Stays on her floating locks the lovely freight The black earth with brilliance rare. 3. Whilome thou camest with the morning mist, And with the evening cloud, Showering thy gleaned wealth into my open breast, (Those peerless flowers which in the rudest wind Never grow sere, When rooted in the garden of the mind, In sweet dreams softer than unbroken rest Though deep not fathomless, Was cloven with the million stars which tremble O'er the deep mind of dauntless infancy. Small thought was there of life's distress; For sure she deem'd no mist of earth could dull O strengthen me, enlighten me! I faint in this obscurity, Thou dewy dawn of memory. 4. Come forth I charge thee, arise, Thou of the many tongues, the myriad eyes! Thou comest not with shows of flaunting vines Unto mine inner eye, Divinest Memory! Thou wert not nursed by the waterfall Which ever sounds and shines A pillar of white light upon the wall Of purple cliffs, aloof descried : Come from the woods that belt the gray hill-side, The seven elms, the poplars four That stand beside my father's door, The filter'd tribute of the rough woodland. Pour round mine ears the livelong bleat When the first matin-song hath waken’d loud What time the amber morn Forth gushes from beneath a low-hung cloud. 5. Large dowries doth the raptured eye To the young spirit present When first she is wed; And like a bride of old In triumph led, |